Long Time Coming
by Elizabeth.Finch
Summary: ["My mom never came to bail me out. Ever." Looking past the leather jacket, the scowl permanently planted on his lips, it was all too easy to imagine him sitting in jail at ten years old, small and towheaded trying so hard to be as tough as he talks. "She should have come," I said fiercely. "Your mother should have been there to get you, Dallas."] Twoshot.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer** I do not own The Outsiders and I have come to accept that no matter how sad it makes me

* * *

_**Long Time Coming**_

"Darry."

I watched as his head shot up in surprise, not at the sound of his name but at the sound of my voice—my voice in _this_ place. But he should have known that I would be the one to come. His eyes locked on mine and a second later he ducked down a few inches lower in shame. Good, I thought with a little too much satisfaction. A little shame might go a long way for him right about now.

I spotted a vaguely familiar face sharing my son's cell. I watched as he grinned and said something quietly, too quiet for me to hear, to Darry causing him to nod seriously. I tried to place the name and it took me longer than it should have but I finally realized it was none other than Timothy Shepard. Glory, he's changed a lot. He used to by the house occasionally when they were all younger. He was always quiet and surprisingly polite. He didn't have a great home life like a lot of the boys and soon he stopped coming by altogether. Now I only knew of him from the boys and from what I heard (which was a lot), he was getting himself into some deep trouble—things a lot more serious than fighting and drinking. I knew Dallas liked him just fine but even he never brought Tim around anymore.

Knowing Dally, I figured there was a reason for that—good or not.

Officer Garrels unlocked the cell and Darry stood up quickly like he had bounced off a spring board. His back was stiff and his muscles were tense and he wouldn't look at me. I wondered briefly if he was embarrassed to have his mom come and bail him out of jail.

All the other boys were watching closely and were probably going to give him a hard time after this but for now they were keeping their mouths shut. Whether that's because they knew better than to mouth off with Officer Garrels right there or because they were intimidated, I didn't know.

Despite most of these boys being tough hoods, hoods like Tim Shepard, I liked to think that they were scared silly of me. Not so much of me but of what I am. A hacked off mom was a terrible thing to behold and Lord knows I was mighty hacked off.

"Come on son, let's go," Darry still wouldn't look at me but I looked at him plenty. I had to lean my head back to get a good look at his face when he came up next to me. He was getting so tall and handsome to boot, but all I saw was the busted lip and the black eye.

The walk to the car was silent and I let him stew in it. The drive home was even more silent and I saw Darry start to shift in his seat. Perfect. I hoped he was plenty uncomfortable.

It wasn't until we were pulling into the driveway that I finally began to talk. Darry looked as nervous as I've ever seen him but there was something deeper lurking under the surface of his expression. He was angry, too, I thought.

"Who was it?" I asked and for the first time since we got in the car, Darry looked at me. "Who'd you fight?" I clarified and was met with more silence. Now I didn't know if he was doing it because he's afraid or because he just didn't wanna talk. Glory, that boy could frustrate me to no end! Darrel says it's because he's a lot like me and maybe that's so. Still, I wanted some answers.

"Well?" I pushed and Darry's jaw tightened.

"What does it matter who I fought?"

"I want to know if you got in a fight with someone worth going to jail over."

He turned and looked out the window and stared down the street. "You don't know him."

"Do you?" I asked right away because if he got into a fight with someone for no reason, I was gonna lose it. He didn't answer again I turned in my seat and looked at him hard. "Well?"

"Well what?"

My eyes narrowed angrily. "You know what I mean Darrel Shaynne Curtis. Was fighting that boy worth it?"

"I won," was all Darry said.

"And still wound up in jail," I reminded him none too gently. "So what'd you fight about?" Darry looked at me like that was the last thing he wanted to answer. "You might as well practice the story before you go in there because you know Soda's about to burst over all this."

My oldest son's eyes rolled at the mention of Sodapop. "Why'd you have to tell him?"

"Soda is nosy and you know it. 'Sides, it was a little hard to miss the details when your father started shouting that you had been hauled in."

"He mad?" Darry winced. He knew it wasn't good news if his father was hollering. Darrel didn't get upset often but when he did, Lordy, that man could blaze with anger. I didn't figure I should mention it to Darry, but I was glad his father upset over this. They were real close, him and Darry, and Darry always seemed to listen to him better than me.

"You bet he is. He says this could mess up your football season. But I'm the one you need to worry about right now. Come on," I motioned with my hand. "Lay it on me."

Darry gave a deep sigh of resignation and finally spit it out. "He called me a greaser."

"So you hit him?"

"He shoved me first. Then called me a greaser and told me Paul was only my buddy because they all felt sorry for me," he was so mad I could hear his teeth click together when he talked. Darry huffed out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest glaring out the window like he wanted to set this neighborhood on fire. "Said I was a charity case."

My heart felt like it was sinking real fast into the pit of my stomach. We sat there in silence for a few minutes as I gathered my thoughts. I was angry myself, of course. But I had to keep my head or else Darry might think that this was an okay reason to fight and get himself arrested.

This was one of those things that they don't tell you about when you become a parent. All those books don't tell you how to deal with things like why some people work and work and work to make a future for their family but are still poor and others seem to hardly try and have every end met, or how to explain to your child that just because you're poor doesn't mean your trash in spite of what others think or say.

"Darry," I started and bit my lip. "I know it ain't fair, baby. But you have to show them you're better than that. You can't go around hitting every idiot who talks trash about you, because people are gonna. Especially because you're so good at what you do—school, football—you're a leader honey and people are gonna be jealous. That means you gotta make hard choices and sometimes the hardest choice is not fighting even if you want to real bad."

Darry sniffed once and I put my hand on the back of his neck and rubbed a little. He was shaking his head and grinding his teeth and I waited. "He didn't even get hauled in, you know. Only I did even though the fuzz saw both of us goin' at it."

"That's why you gotta show them you're better," I said through my own frustration. That's the way things were around here. The unfairness made me so angry sometimes that I thought I was gonna scream. But screamin' wouldn't do much good anyway. There was enough of that in this neighborhood already. So instead, I grabbed my son's chin and looked at him as sternly as I could. "Now you listen to me, Darry, and you listen good. When you walk back into school tomorrow and see all your friends, don't you dare look down. Don't you _dare_. You keep your head up and you look them in the eye and you show them that you're worth a whole lot more than they think."

"Yes ma'am," Darry nodded and I slid my hand up to rest against his cheek and smiled at him.

"You've been a good boy all your life, Darry," I told him. "Now it's time to be a good man."

He looked at me, his brow drawn together tightly and his face screwing up a little. He nodded slowly in acceptance of his new task.

We went inside after that. Nothing more needed to be said. Darrel was waiting up for us in his chair and when we walked in he folded the newspaper he was reading. I left them to themselves knowing that my job was done.

Exhausted from the night, I headed down the hall towards the boys room and as I rounded the corner I spotted a handsome face peeking out from behind his door. When he saw that he had been caught spying, his eyes widened comically. Soda tried to get back into his room in a real hurry but from the yelp I heard he must've backed right into—or over—Ponyboy.

I hurried over and shooed them with hushed whispers. "Boys! It is past your bedtime. Both of you, get into bed now!"

It was like a miniature tornado of pounding feet as they scrambled into bed. I walked through the room and picked up the clothes that were strewn about the floor and desk and somehow even on the bookcase. Lord knows I had no idea how a pair of pants got up there and I didn't even wanna ask.

Dumping the clothes in their bin, I then went over and began tucking the blanket close around Pony's small body.

"Is Darry in trouble?" He asked with big eyes sounding utterly worried for his big brother. I smiled a little at him. The boy was sweet as honey.

"Yeah, he is in a bit of trouble," I told him. "But don't you worry about it. You need to get some sleep before school tomorrow."

"He's goin' to death row, isn't he?"

I stared at my youngest in absolute shock before shaking my head vigorously. "What? No! Who told you that?"

Ponyboy threw Soda a confused look and Soda only sunk deeper into his bed. I pursed my lips. _Of course_. I should have known. "Sodapop Curtis, what in the world kind of stories are you tellin' your baby brother? You know better than that!"

"Well we didn't know if Darry murdered someone or not and they put murderers on death row!" Soda protested vehemently like I should have already thought about the possibilities. "We were tryin' to come up with a plan to break him out."

Ponyboy then pulled out a utensil from under his pillow and held it out to show me. "I got a spoon."

I didn't even try to hide the laugh that bubbled up inside of me. "Oh, you were plannin' on digging him out, were you?"

"I told him that would take too long." Soda informed me from the other bed. "Stevie and I would have figured out a better way."

"I'm sure you would have," I frowned a little thinking about the most likely terrifyingly wild plan that Steve and Soda would have come up with. Those two were a dangerous combination and kept me on my toes. "Listen, don't either of you go askin' Darry what happened tonight, you hear me? He's back and he's safe but he had a rough enough night," I told them in my no nonsense voice and heard a small chorus of, "Yes ma'ams."

"Alright then," I leaned down to kiss Ponyboy on his forehead. I whispered against his skin how much I loved him and then went over to Soda who grinned up at me like he usually does—reckless and free and happy and far too much like his father. I couldn't help but grin back at him as I kissed him as well and Soda threw his arms up around my neck knocking me off balance and making me laugh.

Untangling myself from Soda's arms I headed towards their door still grinning. "Goodnight, both of you."

"Night," they both answered at the same time.

* * *

Later that night I heard the front door open and close quietly. I knew it was one of the boys but listened for a second longer to find out which one. If the refrigerator opened, it would be Two-Bit—you'd have thought that boy was never fed by how much he could put away. If the lamp got turned on, it was Steve—he'd never been a fan of being in the dark, especially after his father kicked him out. I wouldn't have woken up at all if it was Johnny—he slipped in so quiet that it was almost frightening. But when I heard soft footsteps come down the hall, ritually checking throughout the house to make sure everyone was safe and fast asleep, I knew it was Dally.

Normally, I would have gone back to sleep but after a night like tonight, I found it hard to shut my mind off and suddenly I was thirstier than a hot desert. I slipped out of bed and wrapped my robe tightly around me.

He was sitting on the couch in the dark when I walked in. His eyes didn't fly to me, wary at the sudden intrusion, no; Dallas was staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. I furrowed my brows and tried to see if he was beat up or drunk. I didn't smell any alcohol and as far as I could see his skin was its usual ghostly pale. But he was still staring at the wall so I went into the kitchen and got myself a glass of water.

"Why'd you go get 'im?"

The voice scared me so bad that I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. I turned around wiping water away from the corner of my mouth. Dally had followed me into the kitchen and he was staring at me like I was a bank vault that he was trying to figure out how to open up.

It struck me that I had never really seen him like this. I've seen him violent as a thunderhead, I've seen him bitter and cold and angry like winter. I've seen him protective and proud. I've even seen him goofy… well, as goofy as Dally can get. But I don't think I've ever seen Dallas Winston desperate.

"Why'd you go bail Darry out tonight?" He asked again when I didn't answer right away and I could tell that whatever I said was going to be real important to him.

"Because he's fifteen," I told him and Dally squinted at me clearly not understanding. "I couldn't just leave him there overnight."

He was silent for a moment and then his mouth twisted and he spoke as quiet as I've ever heard him. "My mom never came to bail me out. Ever."

I stood there in the kitchen with a boy who most considered a tough hood in nothing but my night robe and slippers and finally I understood. Looking past the leather jacket, the scowl nearly permanently planted on his lips, it was all too easy to imagine him sitting in a jail cell at ten years old, small and towheaded with wide blue eyes trying so hard to be as tough as he talks. I imagined him waiting, waiting, waiting desperate like he was now for someone—anyone—to show up, to claim him as theirs, to come rescue him out of that place that maybe he never really wanted to be in. I imagined the betrayal he must have felt running through his veins like poison when he sat there alone hour after hour with no one bothering to show up.

What I saw in my mind was so violent in its clarity that I understood the fury in him now. Fury that boiled bright and hot and so painful that it blistered the inside of him turning him into something meaner and tougher and bitterer than any of the other boys.

I blinked hard once, twice and harshly told myself not to tear up, but I couldn't seem to help it. I found myself abruptly and blindly angry at this woman that I pictured as his mother. I wanted to shout at her and tell her off… but she wasn't there. She never was. There was just Dally and his fury and his desperation.

"She should have come," I said fiercely and his eyes burned into mine like fire, branding me. "Your mother should have been there to get you, Dallas."

He stared at me for an eternity with that same bank vault look trying to figure me out and I couldn't take it anymore. So I turned around and blinked furiously and swiped a hand across my eyes. Breathing deep, I turned back around and nearly deflated in relief to see Dally staring at the floor now instead of me.

"S'okay if I crash here tonight?" He asked suddenly. He knew he didn't have to ask but for some reason something told me that Dallas needed to know that he was welcomed tonight—that he had a place.

"Of course," I told him and he chewed on a finger nail and nodded. "You need anything? That blanket warm enough for you?"

Dally stopped chewing and grinned at me. "Nah, I'm good." He turned and headed back towards the couch waving over his shoulder. "G'night."

I watched him briefly as he shrugged out of his cowboy boots and got himself comfortable on the couch. He scratched at his side for a moment before sighing deeply and burrowing under the blanket. That sigh brought a soft smile to my face.

"Sweet dreams, Dally," I whispered and turned off the kitchen light.

* * *

**AN:** Part two coming soon!


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer** I do not own The Outsiders and I have come to accept that no matter how sad it makes me

* * *

_**Long Time Coming - Part Two**_

"Can you explain it to me again how you ended up here?"

Two-Bit leaned back in his seat with a wide unabashed grin. "Well, officer Bishop was tellin' me that I had the right to remain silent… but I guess I just don't have the ability."

I had to hold back a groan of agreement as we pulled up to a stop sign. I had been able to hear him chattering and laughin' like some maniac from his cell as I did the paperwork upfront. Mimi was gonna owe me a drink or two by the time this was over. She had called me in a frustrated panic stuck at work at Zippy's unable to pick her son up. She said Two-Bit had been hauled in for harassing an officer outside of the local donut shop and general disrupting of the peace.

"That might be a valuable attribute to learn some day, Two-Bit," I told him seriously and he just cackled.

"Mrs. Curtis, if I ever learned that I wouldn't have any reason to be called Two-Bit and I'm awful fond of my name."

I threw him a skeptical sideways glance. "As fond as you are of getting harassed by the police?"

"I think I was doin' the harassing this time," he reasoned and I found myself agreeing with him once again. That boy was going to get himself in a load of trouble with his mouth if he didn't start watching himself soon. In fact, I already knew he was in for it later tonight when his mom would come to pick him up. For some reason, that cheered me up a little bit.

Mimi—her name was actually Mildred but Lord knows she hates that name almost as much as Keith hates his—and I were good friends and had been for years. We knew each other well and knew each other's kids even better. I figured that's why she called me. There weren't many people who she would risk her pride for to ask to go pick up Two-Bit and even fewer who would be willing to actually do it. I don't mind. I'd want her to do the same for my boys if I wasn't able to.

"I hope you enjoy explaining this to your mother when she gets off work tonight," I drawled and smirked a little at the thought of Two-Bit getting dragged out by his ear (it had happened once before).

"Oh, I will," he assured me confidently. "She'll probably get a kick out of it just as much as me. So, where're we headed? Can we stop and get a burger?"

I shook my head and grinned. "Oh no, Two-Bit. Don't go thinkin' you're gettin' off this easy. I'm under strict orders to keep you in the house, use you as a house slave and make sure you are present when your mother comes to pick you up tonight."

"Sh—" Two-Bit started to curse and I frowned at him sharply and he trailed off. "…oot." He slumped in his seat significantly and brought a hand up to absently scratch his long sideburns.

"I think we'll start off with the gutters. You can clean those out and then you can be on bathroom duty," I listed off trying to think of the dirtiest jobs in the house that needed to be done and that I could now thankfully avoid. If I was gonna have to keep Two-Bit around the house for the rest of the afternoon there was no way I was just gonna let him sit around doing nothing. Of course, I grinned to myself, I'd probably bake a cake today and give him a piece or two in gratitude because those bathrooms were somethin' awful.

The stocky fourteen year old, however, whistled low under his breath. "Mrs. C, you startin' a chain gang or somethin'?"

I knew he meant to make me laugh but for some reason I couldn't help but frown. I thought about how last year Darry got hauled in for the first time and how the older the boys seemed to get the more trouble they seemed to find. I would be lying if I said that they didn't worry me. I knew the kind of place we lived in, I knew what happened to most people who grow up here, I saw more kids head down wrong roads than I would like. I didn't want that for any of them. I wanted something better.

"I hope not, Two-Bit," I turned and looked at him for a long moment. "I hope not."

* * *

I sat out on the steps that night staring at the stars. The boys were inside working on homework and Darrel had taken an extra shift at work so he wouldn't be home for a long while yet. There was a train whistle going off in the distance and the symphony of summer crickets rose and fell like the ground was breathing in and out in and out. I stared at the sky lost in the twinkling lights and wonderin' how something so beautiful could seem so far away when I heard the latch on the front gate.

Dally sauntered through the gate and gave me a nod for a hello.

"Evenin' Dallas," I said softly and he stopped at the steps. I noticed how his shoulders were slouched and his thumbs hitched in his jean pockets. The scowl on his face was something fierce and I didn't say anything else, I just let him feel what he wanted to feel and waited until he was ready.

Finally after some deliberation he moved to my side and sat down next to me extending one long leg. He dug in his jacket and pulled out a pack of Kools tapping one out and offering it to me silently. I grinned in spite of myself and took it. I didn't smoke often but sometimes I did with Dallas. It was always an effort though to smoke a Kool but I did it because he offered and Dallas Winston doesn't offer something without it being significant.

I let him light the cigarette for me and watched him light his own. We sat there in silence, my gaze going back up to the sky and his glaring hard on the ground.

"So, him too, huh?"

I didn't turn and look at him but simply blew out my smoke and tried to keep the grimace from the taste off my face. I had a feeling he would be stopping by tonight.

"Yeah," I said as my eyes drew slowly back down from the stars to the run down neighborhood around me. "Him too."

"You dig okay," Dally said after a brief silence and I grinned flicking my ashes to the ground as he got up suddenly and headed inside to go get some of the leftovers we had from dinner. The moment the screen door closed I stomped out the cigarette and wrinkled my nose at it.

* * *

I knew it would be coming. I just wished it would be later rather than sooner.

I was surprised that Dallas called the house for his one phone call but the longer I thought about it the more I realized that he just didn't have anyone else to call and the longer I thought about _that_ the more upset I got. Darrel had put up a little bit of a fuss when I went for the keys but I gave him a withering look. Maybe he didn't understand, but I had to do this. I had to—it was almost like Dally was challenging me.

More like mocking me because I was sure as shootin' he had no expectation for me to show up whatsoever. Well, I thought, time to prove him wrong.

Marching right into the station and not entirely liking the fact that I had been here only just over two weeks ago to pick up Two-Bit, I made for the front desk. Officer Garrels saw me coming and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Hey Mrs. Curtis, what can I help you with?"

I wasted no time. "I'm here for Dallas Winston."

"You're joshing me."

"No, I ain't," I ground my teeth. "Can you go get him, please?"

"Well, he's in the holding tank drunk as a skunk—mean, too. We hauled in him so that he'd not get himself into worse trouble… Are you sure you don't want him to just stay here and cool off tonight?"

I glared at Officer Garrels and shook my head not trusting my mouth if I were to open it. I wasn't going to leave Dallas—of all people—here overnight. There was no way I could do that. Officer Garrels seemed to finally accept that I would not be leaving without Dally and he went back to get him. I heard his last name shouted and an incensed Dally shouted, "_What!_" right back. Glory, he sounded angry as all get out tonight. I had no idea what got him in this mood but I prepared myself for what was about to come through those doors.

And yet when they opened and Dally came stumbling through, his blue eyes blazing and red and narrowed into angry little slits, I knew it was going to be a long night. His gaze was honed in on Officer Garrels and I cleared my throat. Even as soused as he was, I was surprised by the way his eyes snapped right to me. His reaction was almost immediate and he scoffed.

"What the f—" he cursed loudly and if I hadn't already smelled the stench of alcohol drenching him through and through this would have been my first clue to just how drunk he had gotten himself. Dallas was usually real good about watching his language around me and now he didn't seem to have that filter. Pointing an accusing finger in my direction, Dally sneered, "What are _you_ doin' here?"

Officer Garrels was watching us closely as if to make sure Dally didn't attack me. I almost scoffed at that. Despite all of his talk and attitude, I had never felt truly afraid of Dally. Afraid for him, yes, of him? No. "I'm here to get you, Dallas."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me." He muttered angrily.

"That's what I said," Officer Garrels piped up from behind him and I moved before Dally did anything stupid. Well, before he did anything stupider.

"Come on, it's gettin' late," I said and my hand hovered near his arm. I knew how he was about people touching him without his permission and had to forcibly hold myself back. If I grabbed him he would definitely choose to stay here tonight just out of spite of being forced to do something. I couldn't help but be amazed though at the heat I felt coming off of his skin. I didn't have a clue how he wasn't sweatin' buckets right now.

"Whatever," Dallas growled but he still followed me out to the car.

"You wanna lay down in the backseat?" I asked as I unlocked the car. "Might be more comfortable." Dally didn't answer me, he just grunted and crawled in the back flopping down hard. I went around the front and got in quick. "Let me know if you start to feel sick and I'll pull over real fast, okay?"

Another grunt and I started the car. I thought back to how different this silence was from how my drive back with Darry had been a year ago. I hated that Dallas did this to himself.

We were about half way home when Dallas mumbled from the backseat, "Where's Mr. C?"

"With the boys at home."

He struggled as he sat up and found my eyes in the rear view mirror. He squinted at me, confusion coloring his face. "Shouldn't this be the other way 'round?"

"Dallas, I wanted to come get you." I told him hoping he wouldn't make me say it because with how ornery he was tonight that wouldn't do either of us any good.

"Why?" He asked blearily. "Why'd you come pick me up?"

_Because someone should_ I almost said but thankfully I bit my tongue before the words got out. Instead I kept quiet thinking over what to say.

"You ever think that maybe I wanted to stay in there—huh?"

My eyes flickered over to the rear view mirror and met his bitter blues. I spoke carefully, "No one wants to sleep in a cell, Dally."

"Yeah, well maybe it'd be more welcoming than my old man's place," he muttered and then put his hand on the passenger seat and leaned forward. I fought to keep my face from screwing up over the rank smell of whiskey on him. I did, however, catch the bloodied knuckles on his hand. I knew what bloodied knuckles without anything to show for it meant, I'd seen my own boys punch walls plenty of times in their frustration.

Dallas must have caught my glance because the next thing I knew he moved his hand out of sight and leaned back. "You coulda left me. Wouldn't been the first time and I ain't scared of jail."

You should be, I thought. Dear God, you should be. But you just don't tell Dallas Winston things like that. Half the time I felt like I was walking a tightrope with him, tryin' to figure out and learn what and where to walk.

We finally reach the house and I put the car in park and turn around in my seat to look back at him. He still had an awful scowl on his face and he glared out the window trying to keep away from my gaze.

"I know you're not scared, Dallas. You're tough. But I couldn't just leave you there overnight." His eyes snapped to mine, brilliant, bold, and burning. I knew he was remembering a conversation in the middle of the night in my kitchen and I remembered it too. Refusing to look away from him I watched as his breathing started to change—it was a little harsher and a lot faster. His jaw tightened and he swallowed once and the motion was hard, like he was trying to get a big piece of food down his throat.

What I would have given to hug him at that moment but something told me that would set him off—and not in a good way. It was that swallow that had me asking my next question instead.

"Did they feed you in there?" He shook his head and I nodded firmly because I wasn't going to give him an option. "Well, you're staying for dinner."

Dally seemed to accept that okay and I got out of the car. He opened his door and I waited nearby to see if he needed any help. I would have offered right away but I knew boys and their pride about silly things like this. So I waited and hovered. When I saw that he was able to pull himself out I started for the gate only to have his voice stop me.

"Mrs. Curtis?" I turned back and looked at him. Dally's voice was a lot rougher and he leaned back against the car looking down the street nonchalantly. "Thanks for comin' to get me."

It was my turn to swallow painfully and hard. "You're welcome, Dallas. Come on," I sniffed quickly. "Let's get inside 'fore all the food is gone."

His footsteps trailed closely behind me and I couldn't really explain it but it felt like something deepened between me and him, something unseen shifting under our skin. It was like I made it past some kind of invisible barrier, one that I had been running into face first for all these years and was now finally on the other side. Of course, that meant that I'd probably have to learn a whole new set of rules and I hardly knew how the old ones worked. But when Dallas sat down at the table, still drunk but having lost his scowl, and looked at me with eyes that were far more exhausted and far more vulnerable than I had ever seen them, I realized that this moment had been a long time coming and that Dallas Winston was completely worth every bit of the trouble it took to get here.

* * *

**AN:** Wow, this ended up being a lot more involved than what I had originally intended, but this little sucker would simply _not_ leave me alone. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my first dip into the Outsiders. There may be more to come from Mrs. Curtis and Dallas just because I like them way too much.


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